


See ya, bro

by CRMGrimmi



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Coping, Death, Depression, Gen, Other characters trying to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CRMGrimmi/pseuds/CRMGrimmi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred has died, and George is trying to cope, but he can't alone.<br/>-Mod Grimmi</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Joke's over

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ: I started writing this story when I hadn't actually read the books yet, so I didn't know how Fred died, so the beginning will obviously be wrong, and I apologize for that.

Drip, drop.

"Fred!"

Drip, drop.

"Wake up! Please!"

Drip, drop.

"Fred! Please..."

Drip, drop.

"Don't die..." George pleads in vain. There's no point, he knows that. But that doesn't stop him. "Come back..." Fred's eyes are empty, looking blindly at the clouded sky above, raindrops falling unto his deathly pale skin. Among the raindrops are tears. George's tears.

The life had long gone from Fred's eyes. His laugh drained from his being, leaving only a cold body. Leaving George, leaving Ginny, Ron, his mum, his dad, Percy, Bill and Charlie. Gone. Forever. Never to be replaced.

Molly Weasley rushes towards them, followed by the others. George carries Fred into the main hall, among the other injured and dead people. He stops a little before his family. He kneels down, almost falling to his knees, holding his limp brother in his arms, crying for all he was worth. His mother stops dead in her tracks, as if she had been Petrified. George doesn't notice them, until Ginny slowly kneels next him, and lays her hand over his, which is clutching tightly on Fred's arm. He jolts, gasping, and looks at her. Her eyes are sparkling with tears, but she's smiling weakly. Molly walks slowly towards Fred, looking as if she had just been stabbed. But she probably has been. Small tears run down her cheeks.

"Oh, my boy..." she whispers quietly. She kneels on the other side of Fred, opposite George, looking deeply into Fred's dead eyes. "My boy...!" she sobs quietly. George continues crying, making no sound, just sniffling, clinging on to Fred as if he'd never let him go. Bill and Arthur are quietly standing next to them, not crying, but anybody could tell they had both been shredded in the inside by death. George reluctantly lays Fred onto the floor, and Molly throws herself at her son, crying.

Ron, Hermione and Harry enter the room. George gets up and looks down unto his pale twin. Ron doesn't understand what's going on and walks towards his family. George notices him, and looks at him with sorrowful eyes. Ron feels a twinge of pain in his heart, and knows something has gone wrong. Ron walks closer to George, and the latter throws his arms around him, sobbing. Ron is shocked, scared and worried.

What had happened? He would be answered, only too soon.

George shows him Fred; Ron gasps, and immediately tears are flooding his tears, and running down his cheeks. His mother is burying her head in Fred's shoulder, weeping for him. Ron falls to his knees, next to Fred; Molly moves out of the way. Ron grabs both of Fred's shoulders and looks down unto his lifeless older brother, not fully believing that Fred's gone. He's gone though, and nothing can bring him back.

Harry and Hermione are in shock, while Ginny is hugging Bill, crying.

Nobody was ready for this; even thought they knew not all of them would survive, they hadn't been prepared. Not used to war, not used to death, not used to pain. That's all it is. None of them are used to it. Molly and Arthur have had more experience. But never...never has one of their children a victim.

All of the Weasleys feel as though their souls have been shredded. Except George. No...his has been shredded all right...but then set on fire. When one's soul is shredded, the pieces can be put together after a very long time. But burned...it just turns to ashes. And you can't put the soul back together.

Ginny looked to George; the usual laughter, joy, kindness and happiness has left his eyes now, as if a Dementor had entered him, as if he'd never be happy again.

To George, the world had ended. The pranks, laughter, smiles, jokes and mischief are over. Done with. Only a memory.


	2. The living half

The war had been won, but for what good?

George hadn't left his room since he had returned home. He only ate when Mrs Weasley put a tray of food on his bed, and only left the room to shower, but then again, it was already past midnight by then. He didn't want to see anyone at the moment; they made him remember the memories that he had had with them when...he had still been alive.

George sat on his bed, looking at his room. It had been theirs once, but now it was his. Everything was so...lonely. George looked at the bed next to his. It shouldn't be empty, it should have contained a snoring Fred, breathing, alive...

George shook his head, frowning. No, that wasn't ever going to happen again. Fred had had his funeral a little after the war; his family had tried to make George go, but he couldn't, he had simply not courage to go and face such a gathering. He didn’t want to believe it; he didn’t want to realise the truth. Even though he knew it. 

Fred was gone, he knew that, so why…? Why couldn’t he accept it? 

He felt torn, ripped in half. He didn’t feel whole, he felt…half-alive. As id Fred’s death had taken a part of him to the grave. It was so painful, so hard, but he knew life had to go on. He wasn’t the only one that had lost people dear to him. Look at Harry. 

He saw Sirius die in front of his eyes, and friends of his had sacrificed themselves to save him. Dumbledore, Mad-eye Moody, Lupin, Tonks, Dobby, James Potter and Lily…even Snape. The list went on. 

And Luna; her mother died as well.

So he wasn’t alone, he knew that. Fred’s death had hit the others pretty hard as well. But…still. He felt as though he was all alone in the world, as if he was abandoned. Even though he wasn’t either of those things.

George stared at the room again. Fred’s things were still there…but the joy in those objects had died away. The younger twin glared at those objects, suddenly feeling immense hate for them. Why did he die? He didn’t have to. That had never been the plan in the first place! It wasn’t fair! It…wasn’t…fair.

George knew he should be crying, but he simply couldn’t feel any tears threatening to spill. It was as if all emotion, apart from anger, grief and sorrow, had been stripped from him. Maybe this was how it felt after a dementor had kissed you…the feeling of nothingness, finding no point in living…? Worse than being dead. 

George clenched his hands into fists. He needed to let this pain out, he needed to be relieved of all this anger against the world. He needed to blame somebody, something, anything! 

Voldemort would’ve been the first one to blame. But then again, it was his father’s fault…but if Voldemort’s mother hadn’t been a witch, then there wouldn’t have been any problem. But he couldn’t blame here for being a witch, could he? So who’s fault was it? 

“The world…it’s everybody’s fault…” George muttered through gritted teeth. If there had been no wizards and witches, then there would have been none of this! But…if he had been a muggle, then maybe the same thing would’ve happened…just in a different scenario.

For the first time in his life, George felt hatred towards everything and everybody. He hated his parents, he hated his brothers, he hated his sister, he hated Harry, he hated Hogwarts, he hated jokes, he hated laughter, he hated Fred! 

Why did mum have to give birth to us? Why do my brothers have to be so annoying? Why does my sister have to be bossy? He did Harry have to be the chosen one? Why had Hogwarts ever been called a safe place? Why had jokes ever been a joy for him? Why has laughter ever existed? Why did Fred have to die, the idiot!?

George thought all these hateful questions, his anger and pain building up. He thought, and thought, but no answer was found. George turned his head away from Fred’s bed and stuff, and looked out the window. The moon was shining brightly, and he knew, that if Fred hadn’t died, they would have been discussing new products for their joke shop.

The joke shop…that will be staying closed for a while…probably forever. It wouldn’t be the same without Fred. Fred had been everything to George. Heck, they had been together since birth, all the way to young adult hood! But…

George punched his pillow. Stop thinking about it. He punched the pillow again. He’s gone, stop thinking he could come back…he’s never coming back…He growled, and threw his pillow as hard as he could against the wall opposite him. It didn’t satisfy his anger at all. He wanted to punch something that he could destroy until all his anger had run out.

Malfoy. That was the first thing that came to his mind. That little blonde brat…if it hadn’t been for him, the death eaters would have never been able to infiltrate Hogwarts! George clenched his fists harder, which were now shaking with rage. If that son of a snake had never existed, then the death eaters would have never gotten into the castle! Dumbledore wouldn’t have died, and he would have still been there to protect them all! 

George’s anger changed from Draco to Dumbledore, then blaming Dumbledore for trusting Snape, his hatred moved to Snape. George’s hatred and anger settled on everybody he could think of. Angelina, Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Lucius, his father, his mother, Percy, Cornelius Fudge, Hagrid, Sirius, Harry…the list went on and on.

At last, he was so exhausted from hating and cursing everyone, that he fell asleep while blaming James and Lily Potter for giving birth to Harry in the first place…


	3. Molly and Arthur

George stared blankly at the wall, thinking of nothing but just how he hated everyone.

Arthur and Molly quietly entered the room, looking sadly at their fifth son. “Sweet heart, don’t you think it’s time you come out? Everybody is worried.” Molly said quietly, her eyes shining from unshed tears. 

No answer, just silence. Arthur walked to George, and tried to put a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder, but it was shrugged off. Arthur looked worriedly at Molly, who returned the look of concern. “Please, Georgie. This is as hard for us as it is for you, don’t think we don’t know how you feel.” 

This time they got an empty chuckle. A chuckled that was empty of any emotion, just an automatic response.

“You know, do you?” he said dryly. He had dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep, and looked like death warmed up, literally. His look was empty, his eyes were empty, his voice was empty. Everything about him showed as clear as day that he was completely torn. “You know. Then do you know how it is to feel like half of you is missing…? Do you know how it feels to realise you’ll never see the person you were with since birth again? Do you know how it feels when you think of all the things you’ve done together, and you know that you’ll never be able to make new memories with them?”

His parents were at loss of words. They didn’t know. They knew a different pain, the pain of losing a child as a parent. The parents’ pain was terrible, but somehow, a twin’s pain from losing their twin seemed so much more terrible.

“Look, George…please, just…accept it. Just come back to us. You seem like a completely different person now and so far away…please.” Molly pleaded, tears running down her face in anguish. 

Something snapped inside of George. “Accept it? Accept it? You want me to accept Fred’s death? Is that what you want?” he said darkly, fury boiling in him. “You want me to forget about him? Like he never existed? As if he has just been part of a dream, after all this time?”

“No, George, no, that’s not-” Molly began.

“IF THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU MEANT, THEN WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! WHAT?! YOU THINK I CAN JUST ACCEPT IT LIKE THAT, AND CARRY ON?! COME ON, YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!” He yelled angrily, standing up and looking at them in deepest fury.

“No, George, please listen…” Molly said.

“LISTEN?! WHY SHOULD I LISTEN?! YOU COME IN HERE AND TELL ME TO ACCEPT MY TWINS DEATH! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! WHAT D’YOU THINK I’M DOING IN THIS ROOM?! WASTING MY TIME?! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M EXPERIENCING HERE! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I FEEL LIKE MURDERING SOMEONE, AND JUST HOW MUCH I HATE EVERYTHING! SO DON’T COME MARCHING IN HERE, TELLING ME TO…TO…!” He gasped, clenching his fists. “GET OUT!”

“George! Please!” Molly pleaded louder. 

“I SAID GET OUT!” George repeated angrily. That was the last thing Molly wanted to do, but she was lead out the room by Arthur, who knew better than to argue with an angry Weasley. After Arthur closed the door, George punch the wall angrily, taking in deep breaths. ‘What are they, stupid? Yeah… “Accept it.”, what are joke…’

He muttered curses, soothed his bleeding knuckles, leaning against the wall, and sliding down. Downstairs, he could hear his mother crying, and his father trying to sooth her. George didn’t even know who was in the house or not, nor did he care.

‘Damn them…Damn them all to the deepest depths of hell!’ he thought angrily, glaring at the floor.


	4. Bill, Charlie, Fleur and Percy

The next day, it was Bill, Fleur and Charlie who visited George. The latter didn’t care that they were there, or that Fleur was trying to stop tears from rushing down her cheeks. 

“Do you how much you made mum cry?” Bill asked, sounding calm. George shrugged. “We couldn’t calm her down for ages, not even Ginny could calm her down.” George shrugged again, obviously not listening. 

“Georgie, stop looking so depressed, you’re making everybody feel depressed, even though all of this is over with. We understand that it’s difficult for you, and that losing Fred must be a big shock to you, but you still have us, don’t you? You’re not alone in this, George.” Charlie said, his voice sounded like he had never seen a more terrible sight. Fleur was whimpering, clutching Bill’s arm.

“George, pleez, can’t you zust come doonsterz wit uz?” Fleur sounded like she was about to faint. George moved his eyes to look at them, then looked back at the wall. “I-It must bee hard for you, ve underztand zat, b-but ve are all reelly vorried abot you.”

George shrugged. The door opened again, and Percy came in. George glared at him, hating everything about him. Percy saw the look in George’s eyes, and lowered his head shamefully. “George, I’m sorry. I understand you must hate me for you not believing you guys, and trust me, I regret for not listening to Harry and believing everything the Daily Prophet said.” Percy said in a small voice that didn’t fit him at all. “I’m really sorry…like Fleur said, we’re all really worried about you…so am I. Ron, Harry and Hermione think we should just let you be.”

“But we think otherwise.” Bill continues, for Percy looked too pale for his own good. “Nearly a whole month you’ve isolated yourself here, George. Being alone isn’t gonna make it any easier.” They waited for a reaction, anything, that showed George was still communicating and hadn’t gone completely loony. “Lee’s been really worried about you too. He’s tried to talk to you, but each time, we’ve told him you aren’t talking. He wants to visit, but he’s really busy.”

George flinched at his best pal’s name. Lee…he’d completely forgotten about him. Images of George and Fred playing Quidditch with Lee commenting flashed into his mind. He had always found Lee’s commenting hilarious, the best there could ever be. He remembered Fred laughing loudly, while whacking a bludger towards a Slytherin player.

“Shut up.” George said hoarsely. “I don’t want to hear about him.” He didn’t want to see, hear or talk to anyone that reminded him of Fred. “Just…leave me.” He said quietly. He was furious, he felt like a wild tiger in a cage too small to even move in, he needed to be angry at someone, but couldn’t be angry. He couldn’t explain his anger in words, and he didn’t want to hurt his family either.

Fleur let out a high pitched gasp, and hugged Bill tightly, hiding her face into his chest, while Bill stroked her silver hair gently, soothing her. Percy didn’t say anything, and Charlie sniffed, walking towards the door, followed by Bill and Fleur. Percy was the last to leave, looking sadly at his younger brother, and feeling the guilty pang in his chest grow painfully. He closed the door gently.

Once again, George heard crying, this time from Fleur, soon joined by Mrs Weasley. He sighed irritably, and closed his eyes, painful memories flashing through his eyes.


	5. Hermione, Harry and Ginny

It had been two days since his last visit from his brothers and sister-in-law. George loved the silence, but despised it. He loved that he was alone and mourn, but hated that too. Alone, in his own room, contradicting himself. 

There was a gentle knock, as if somebody was scared that knocking too hard would turn the door to dust. George didn’t answer, both grateful and angry that somebody had come to see him. Somehow, all gratefulness was crushed by his anger, but still he said nothing.

“George?” Ginny’s voice said gently through a crack in the door. Why did everybody have to be so gentle? It annoyed him. Can’t they see that he didn’t want their sympathetic opinions or whatever it was. Ginny walked in, and George could pretty much tell without looking that she was holding hands with Harry. However, he also heard another person walk in, and couldn’t make out who it could be.

“Hello George…” said an unusually quiet voice. Hermione, of course. George looked at them with his dead eyes, which seemed to shock Ginny so much that she had to cover her mouth with her hands to stop herself from gasping. Harry had a glint of pity in his eyes, while Hermione walked to George and sat down next to him. “George, I know I’m probably going to sound annoying, but…” she stopped, thinking carefully how to say her thoughts without causing George to get angry with them, not knowing that George was already bubbling with rage. “…don’t you think that…it’s time to just show the others…that you haven’t completely given up on life?” she asked slowly. 

George looked at her dully. What was with these people? They all came up here, with their all mighty thoughts on what he should do, and what he shouldn’t do, as if he was some bad child that had never been taught any manners. Are they so blind that they can’t realise that he doesn’t want know what they think he should do?

“The fact that I’m still alive isn’t enough?” George whispered, so quietly, that Hermione had to really concentrate to hear what he was saying. “You know…if I really wanted to die, I would’ve just used the Killing spell on myself. Isn’t it enough that I’m still next to you, breathing, and haven’t joined Fred yet?” He said glaring at Hermione, in such a hateful way, that Hermione jumped up and took a step backwards, looking terrified. “What? Too much for you? You have no idea how I feel right now, so don’t you dare march in and tell me your opinion, cause you know what? I don’t give a damn.” 

Harry was the only who didn’t look shocked or surprised. “George. Calm down. Don’t think I don’t know how you feel.” He said emotionlessly. “I have seen many people die, most of them important to me. My parents don’t count, but Sirius’ and Dumbledore’s death were tragical for me, making me lose all the protection I’ve ever had. You’ve got a large family, so don’t waste your time by mourning over Fred’s death. Fred wouldn’t want you to be upset like this.” Silence. George had listened, and even though he knew Harry was right, he couldn’t stop but feeling pure hatred towards Harry.

“Yeah, he wouldn’t.” he said, a little bit of hope flickering in the two girls eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna accept it. Right now, this is a certain type of loneliness that only twins who have lost their twin they are exceptionally close to will understand.” All hope was crushed in an instant, as George stood up, and looked angrily at all three of them. “Don’t go around thinking that because you were the Chosen One that you have any higher priority than others. Just become you killed Voldemort, it doesn’t mean you understand anybody any better. You’re still human, not some know-it-all god; so just shut it.” He said rudely, letting all his anger fall unto Harry, even though the ginger haired boy knew that he wasn’t yelling or screaming, but was just quietly showing a fraction of his anger.

Harry looked extremely taken aback at this, all calm, or understanding completely vanishing from his mind. “I’ve never thought that. Look, we’re just trying to help! I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but everybody’s worried about you! You didn’t come to Fred’s funeral, you haven’t left your room during the day in weeks, and everybody thinks that you are thinking of causing suicide. We want to help you!” Harry now sounded desperate. He wanted to help George, he really did. George’s laughter and grinning face was more of a fantasy than a memory now, for the look the older ginger was giving him could easily remind him of Voldemort’s fire in his eyes when Voldemort had been angry beyond words.

“Just…get out. I don’t want your help, nor need it, and you can tell that to everybody else too. I don’t care, nor will I ever care, what any of you think.” George said darkly. Ginny looked like she was about to hug George in her distress, but Harry stopped her, getting the hint, and pulling both Ginny and Hermione out of the room, gave George one final pleading look and closed the door. 

George clenched his jaw and fists tightly, too tightly even, so that his nails dug into his palms, and made himself bleed. He felt suffocated, feeling as if a snake was crushing the air out of him. But still, no tears were able escape his dry eyes.


	6. Ron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to remind everyone: I had started to write this story before I actually read the books, so I didn't actually know how Fred died.

As the days passed, George’s welfare was everybody’s worry. He had never been the type to get really angry, not even with Percy; he had just teased and kinda bullied him for a while. Everyone in the house felt George’s depression, and the tension between him and the other members of the family was so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. 

It had been another week since anybody had visited George. Everybody was down in the dumps, except for a certain young ginger. “That’s it. I’ve had enough.” The youngest boy of the Weasleys declared, marching up to George’s room, much to everybody’s despair.

George was glaring at the same wall, wishing the world would just engulf him and make him disappear and forgotten. He heard loud steps from outside his room, and jumped when the door slammed open. He wheeled round to see a fuming Ron. “Stop being so gloomy! You are going to come downstairs with me, and I’m not taking ‘no’ as an answer!” he ordered loudly. There was a certain Mrs Weasleyness in the way he was standing and speaking but George just glared at him. 

“Oh, and why should I?!” he answered back. 

“Because your depressing aura is crushing everybody! Just grow up and get over it already!” Ron replied.

“What?! Get over it?! You have no idea how hard this is for me!” George yelled angrily.

“YOU’RE SUCH AN IMBECILE! OF COURSE WE HAVE AN IDEA!” Ron bellowed, making George speechless. Ron had never yelled at him like that. “YOU THINK THAT YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE THAT’S TORN FROM FRED’S DEATH?! YOU THINK WE HAVEN’T FELT THAT THERE’S A MASSIVE EMPTY SPACE IN THE FAMILY!?”

George looked wide eyed at Ron, the latter’s ears turning red, as well as his face. “R-Ron…BUT YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT IS TO LOSE THE PERSON YOU’VE BEEN WITH ALL YOUR LIFE!” He bellowed back.

“THEN TELL US ALREADY!” Ron cried out. This remark really made the older brother speechless. “OF COURSE WE DON’T KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU FEEL! EVERYBODY’S PAIN IS DIFFERENT! BUT YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO’S ISOLATING THEMSELVES! EVERYBODY’S HELPING EACH OTHER DOWNSTAIRS! HERMIONE AND HARRY VISIT EVERYDAY, MUM AND THE OTHERS ARE HAVING HONEST CHATS ON HOW THEY FEEL, WHILE YOU DUMP YOURSELF IN YOUR ROOM ON YOUR OWN LIKE SOME USELESS BAG OF DRAGON DUNG!”

George was absolutely speechless, he couldn’t say anything. Ron was panting a little from his outburst. “Do you really believe that you’re the only one who’s upset? Mum and Dad raised both of you! Their pain’s just as bad as yours! What about Charlie and Bill? They also helped Mum and Dad in your upbringing, they are also upset! Heck, they cried! And Ginny! And me! Even Fleur and everyone else! We’re all in pain from Fred’s death!”

George clenched his jaw. “BE QUIET! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SCORN ME! I FEEL LIKE HALF OF MYSELF HAS GONE TO THE GRAVE WITH FRED! I DON’T FEEL WHOLE, I FEEL LIKE THE WORLD’S ABANDONED ME, LIKE THERE’S NO HOPE OR LIGHT, LIKE THE THOUGHT OF ANYTHING HAPPY IS JUST AN OLD FANTASY! FRED’S EXISTANCE IS LIKE AN OLD DREAM YOU FORGET RIGHT AFTER YOU’VE DREAMT IT! ALL THE MEMORIES WE’VE HAD TOGETHER ARE PAINFUL! EACH TIME SOMEBODY MENTIONS LEE, OT QUIDDITCH, OR LAUGHS OR EVEN SMILES, I REMEMBER FRED, AND I HATE IT! I ALWAYS REMEMBER THE LOOK IN FRED’S EYES WHEN HE DIED, AND THE ECHO OF HIS LAUGH AS HE DIED! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TERRIBLE THAT IS! IT’S MY FAULT HE DIED! IF I HAD PAID ATTENTION, I WOULD’VE BEEN ABLE TO SAVE HIM! I WOULDN’T BE FEELING LIKE THIS! IT’S…all…my fault…” George sank to his knees, and buried his face in his hands. Tears still weren’t spilling, he didn’t understand. “Everything reminds me of Fred…and I hate it…everything makes me angry…I can’t look at anything without Fred’s face flashing in my mind…” his voice became quieter and quieter. “SO DON’T TELL ME TO GET OVER IT!”

Ron’s face hadn’t changed. “GET OVER IT!” Ron repeated. “STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF! JUST STOP IT! YOU’RE THE LAST OF FRED’S EXISTANCE!” George stared at Ron with shocked eyes. “YOU’RE MAKING THE GAP IN THE FAMILY GROW POINTLESSLY! YOU’RE MAKING EVERYBODY MISERABLE WHEN THERE’S NO NEED TO DO THAT! I MISS FRED TOO! SERIOUSLY! I EVEN MISS HOW YOU TWO USED TO BULLY ME! IT’S NOT NATURAL NOT HEARING BOTH OF YOU MAKING MINI EXPLOSIONS IN HERE! EVERYBODY WOULD’VE ACCEPTED IT IF YOU HAD STAYED IN HERE FOR A WEEK! BUT NO! YOU’VE BEEN IN HERE FOR OVER A MONTH, GEORGE! WE MISS YOU!” Ron cried out the last bit. “WE WANT TO COME BACK DOWNSTAIRS! WE MISS BOTH OF YOU! BUT THE FACT THAT YOU’RE NOT DOWNSTAIRS, AND JUST BEING DEPRESSED UP HERE IS MAKING US FEEL LIKE YOU’RE BOTH DEAD!” Ron gasped for breath. “And only Fred is dead…and that’s hard enough…”

George’s eyes widened dramatically when tears ran down Ron’s face. “It’s…hard enough, having just one of you gone…I don’t think any of the family would ever recover if you also died. SO PLEASE! JUST GET OVER IT.” Ron cried, a fast flow of tears spilling from his eyes. 

George felt his heart clench in sorrow. His eyes glistened; the fact that Ron was crying because of Fred’s death and not of George’s state was comforting, he didn’t feel alone in this. Ron kneeled in front of him, and wrapped his arms around his older brother’s neck, sobbing in his shoulder. George realised just how much pain he himself had caused his family. A single tear run down his cheek, then followed by more. He cried out in agony as he hugged Ron tightly, digging his nails into Ron’s jumper in pure sorrow.

Downstairs, all that the others had heard was shouting, but when they saw Ron, followed by George down the stairs, Ginny and Fleur pounced unto him, crying in relief. George was still crying, but quietly, while Molly joined the hug, squeezing the living daylights out of George. Arthur was looking tenderly at him, so was Bill and Charlie. When Molly, Ginny and Fleur finally let go of him, Bill pulled him to sit down in between him and Charlie.

“Georgie! Are you hungry?! I’m going to cook something up for you! Ginny, Fleur you’re helping!” Molly said, crying, but smiling brighter than ever. The three women left for the kitchen, and that’s when George noticed Percy in the corner of the room, looking sternly at the fireplace. 

“Perce…” George said quietly, making his third oldest brother jolt and look at him. George smile brightly at him, even though he was still crying, and motioned Percy to come next to him with his head. Percy did so, and when he was close enough, George stood up quickly and hugged him. Percy was completely taken aback from this, but was thankful for George’s acceptance back into the family, and hugged him back too. 

Arthur was smiling proudly at Ron, who had been the only able to break through George’s depression and defences. Ron smiled at him father, his own eyes still a little wet. George looked to Ron. “Ronny…thanks.”


	7. Draco

After more than a month of self isolation, George realised just how much he had needed to be outside and see the beauty of the world. He felt renewed and happier, but there was still an unknown weight on his chest. 

But still, if he hadn’t had Ron, the only one to understand him, he would’ve died by mourning for his older twin. He realised just how important his younger brother was to him, and regretted ever teasing him, but then again…maybe not.

“George, where are you going?” Ginny asked. George’s face had more colour, even though he was pale anyway, and he had more life in his eyes, but they were still too dull to be George’s.8

“Just visiting Fred…” he mumbled. Ginny nodded, saying nothing more, and looked sadly out the window as George walked away.

Fred had been buried in the graveyard of the village’s church, underneath a large chestnut tree. George walked slowly, not sure if it was a good idea after all. But he kept walking, he couldn’t stop now… He looked at the path as he walked to the chestnut tree he knew since he was little. He looked up when he arrived near the place he knew Fred was buried, but stopped abruptly, and hid behind a statue of an angel, looking at the direction of Fred’s grave. 

But that wasn’t what he was staring at with pure anger. He could see the back of a white-blonde head, which was looking at the older twin’s grave. George’s anger rose in him. 

‘Malfoy…’ he thought angrily. Draco Malfoy, why was he here?! George wanted to go up to him and punch him hard. Draco had come to laugh at his brother’s death, he knew that! Why else would he come? He hated the Weasleys like his damn father, so why on earth would he come to a Weasley’s grave? 

But George noticed Draco carried a small light candle, which was in a protective red plastic container, rimmed with orange. George saw him put the candle among the flowers which had been left there too. The Malfoy stayed there, crouching and looking at the grave, but George couldn’t see his expression at all. 

George took a deep breath, and walked towards his twin’s grave. Malfoy didn’t hear George, for he was walking so quietly.

“What ya doing?” George asked, a little more viciously than he had wanted. Draco jumped up in surprise and turned round. George stared at him, and Draco stared back, his pale blue grey eyes looking a little nervous.

“Nothing…I was just…paying my respects…that’s all.” He said quietly, looking away from the older man. George frowned.

“That’s a first, never thought you’d be the sort to respect people, except if they bring you something to raise you higher in fame.” George answered back. Draco lowered his head in shame.

“I…I know that I’m a complete double faced coward.” He whispered, George just barely hearing him speak. 

“Yeah, that and a bunch of other things; don’t think we’ve forgotten what you did, letting those Death Eaters into the school and all.” George blamed darkly. Draco nodded, and for once, did not send back a nasty remark or answer, which was out of his character.

“I know…I regret it deeply. Not only did I bring pain to others, but it also brought pain to my family, something I never wanted…but I realise that your loss is denser than my problems.” Draco murmured, not raising his head, so that his face was completely hidden his hair. George looked in shock at Draco, but said nothing more, and walked next to Draco, looking down at Fred’s grave. It felt weird, looking at the name of the person the most important to him on a grave stone. It felt unreal, but somehow, he felt no pain. He didn’t feel completely lost, he felt…whole. It was a strange feeling, after all this time. George looked down to the small candle, shining the grave with a bright red and orange colour, which fit the name ‘Fred Weasley’ on the grave stone very well.

“Gryffindor colours.” George murmured gently. He saw Draco in the corner of his eye nod gently. “Hm…would’ve thought you’d put green.” 

“No…it wouldn’t have looked right.” Draco said quietly still not looking up.

“Why…? Why do you care?” George asked abruptly, his voice shaking a little. Draco finally looked up to George, turning his head to look at the latter ginger.

“You know, even though I did hate you two at the time, I really thought you were incredible people. I was jealous of your braveness, that daring side that didn’t hide their feelings and the fact that you cared for everyone around you and always made them happy when you could. I respect that side of you; everything I’m not.” Draco answered calmly. “When I saw Fred in the Grand Hall with you and your family around him, I realised that my acts had caused you to lose the person you cared most for…I was an idiot, still am. I shouldn’t have followed the Dark Lord’s orders…I regret everything I’ve done. And I am, truly, truly sorry; but I know that ‘sorry’ will never be able to fill the gap in your family that I created.” 

George looked wide eyed at Draco, who was facing him. Was this really that stupid, daddy’s boy Malfoy brat he had known? No…it’s obvious the war also smacked some sense into him too…so this war had done some good too. Made some people realise that the world isn’t all about power.

It was George’s turn to lower his head. “No…it’s not your fault Fred died…Yes, you were an idiot, and maybe still are now, but you were scared; I mean, who wouldn’t be? It was you-know-who after all, and he had threatened to kill you and your family, I know that…It was you-know-who’s fault all along.” 

Draco looked at him, with a mix of sorrow and gratitude in his eyes. “Would…Would it be OK if I came to visit here from time to time?” he asked; his voice gentle. George realised just how much he looked like his father, but had the aura of his mother that Harry had described when she asked him if Draco was alive or dead; caring. George felt light, he didn’t know why. He smiled and nodded. Draco looked a little out of place, but gave a small thankful smile, and walked away.

“Thank you…” George said gently. Draco’s smile widened as he walked.

“No, thank you.”


	8. Ghost

It had been about a week since his visit to the cemetery, and George was awake in his bed in the middle of the night. He couldn’t sleep, finding it difficult not to have them filled with flashbacks from the war. He grumbled, and turned over unto his stomach. He fiddled with his pillow case, counting sheep to try and sleep.

‘Five hundred and fifty three, five hundred and fifty four, five hund-argh! This is getting me nowhere!’ he complained to himself. He sighed, and buried his face into his pillow, eyes closed. 

“You’re really are an idiot, you know that, Georgie?” George’s eyes flew open and he sat up quickly. In front of him, was…Fred? George stared in disbelief, before burying his head back into his pillow.

“I’m must have fallen asleep…” he muttered into the pillow. The image of Fred laughed. “...this is too real to be a dream, though…”

“That’s because it isn’t a dream, idiot.” Fred’s image laughed again, ruffling up George’s hair. Before George knew what he was doing, he had tackled Fred into a hug. Fred smiled softly, and hugged back, holding his twin’s shaking shoulders.

“Why did you die…?” George mumbled into his brother’s shoulder. Fred sighed gently.

“How am I supposed to know, eh? Being dead doesn’t mean you get all the answers. But one thing I do know is that you’re a completely idiotic git. Even worse than old Perce if you ask me.” Fred said bluntly. George pouted.

“That’s mean…you’re being insensitive…” he muttered. Fred took his twin’s face into his hands, and kissed his forehead gently, like he used to do when George was upset when they were little. George had always been the cry baby of the twins, and Fred always the one to sooth him when he cried. 

“Isolating yourself like a 2nd year girl who’s been rejected by her first crush. Are you really that much of a loser?” Fred teased.

“Oi! Now that’s just unfair!” George whimpered, tears still running down his cheeks. “You may have died and have no more troubles up there, but I’m living the misery down here! How d’you think I feel, without you there?!” 

Fred chuckled. “I know exactly how you feel, Georgie. But that what makes you an idiot. I’m always with you.” He soothed gently, wiping his brother’s tears away. “I’ll always be with you as long as you remember me.”

“But you won’t be physically here! Life isn’t the same without you next to me! It’s like a missing puzzle piece! It’s like when we tried to make something, but we used all the ingredients we could find, and nothing would make our experiment perfect!” George said sadly. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“You can do a lot without me, Georgie. It’s not like I’m literally part of your soul. I know it feels like that, but it isn’t like that really.” Fred answered, grinning. He pulled on George’s cheek. “Seriously, I leave you for five seconds and you become all sloppy?”

“I dunno if you’ve noticed but you have been gone for a little longer than five seconds!” George retorted. “And you’re never coming back!” George gasped at what he said, and more tears ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. “You’re…not coming back to us. Ever.” He sobbed once more. Fred sighed.

“Y’know, mourning and thinking about it isn’t going to help me or anybody else. I’m dead, but I’m still watching over you. I’m still with you, and I still love you, like I love mum, like I love dad, and Bill, and Charlie, and Ron, and Ginny. And I do love Percy too, even if he is a bit of a snob. I love you all, and that’s not gonna change any time soon. So stop crying, and smile instead.” Fred smile, looking into eyes identical to his. George’s eyes were shining with shed tears, and even though he nodded, he hiccupped, holding tightly unto Fred’s clothing, which was the same as when he died, just clean. He cried into hid older twin’s shoulder, and didn’t let go.

“S-Stay…please, don’t go…” he sobbed loudly. Fred smiled, and let out a small sigh of amusement. 

“I’ll have to disappear from your sight eventually, but I’ll stay with you for some time.” He said, settling next to his younger twin so that they were facing each other. George was settled in between his arms, which were wrapped around him like a mother wraps her arms around her scared child on a stormy night. “Smile for me, Georgie. Laugh in my place. Joke in my place. Live in my place.” George closed his eyes slowly, feeling sleep overtake him.

“Yes, Freddie.” 

~

When George woke, he was in the same position as he was before, but alone. At first he thought it had all been a dream. But he noticed a single feather next to him, where the so-called ‘dream’ Fred had been. He picked it up, and let out a small smile. It was a soft colour of pale orange.   
“Thank you…” he whispered.

“Don’t mention it, mate.”


	9. A few years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter! Thank you everyone who read this story, and I hope you'll read some of my other stories :3

“George, have you fed Roxanne?” Angelina asked from the kitchen. 

“I’m doing that right now.” George replied. He was in the dining room of his home, feeding his two year old girl, Roxanne. She was very giggly and happily ate her food. 

“Daddy!” Fred exclaimed as he entered the dining room. “Daddy, Daddy! Can I come with you to the shop later?!” the five year old child asked happily. George smiled and nodded.

“Sure, I’ll show you the new products Uncle Ron and I came up with.” He winked, grinning a little. The boy grinned back cheerfully. 

“Freddy, can you help mummy cook lunch?” Angelina poked her head out of the kitchen, smiling sweetly.

“Ok!” the child replied, running into the kitchen. George smiled. Fred was a lot like his twin, hence why he was called ‘Fred’. His child had been named after him, and not only was he Fred by name, he was Fred by nature. Everybody thought that he was a lot like George, because nobody could really tell them apart, but George knew that his five year old son was a lot more like Fred than himself. He looked back to his Roxanne, who was still giggling and stretched out her small hands to her father. George picked her up, hugging her gently as she laughed happily. George also went into the kitchen.

Angelina was cooking a grand lunch, since today was Ron’s birthday and the whole family would be coming over. George lived in the country side, in an area in the Midlands, on the outskirts of Birmingham. He still had his Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, but now he worked with Ron instead. It wasn’t the same as when he had worked with his twin, but it was still a lot of fun to create things with his baby brother, and thanks to his help, they’ve been doing great business without problems. George felt like he owed a lot to Ron, since he was the one to help him recover.

His three year old nephew, James, his brother Albus, who was one year old would also be coming, as well as his four year old niece, Victoire, her three year old sister Dominique and his other niece Rose, who was barely one year old. Remus’ and Tonk’s child, Edward, also known as Ted, would be coming too with his grandmother, Andromeda, who was also Tonk’s mother. Remus’ parents couldn’t come, but they would have like to. Arthur and Molly, as well as the rest of his family would be coming, so it wasn’t going to be a small party, so the kitchen looked like a mess will Angelina made the feast.

George kissed her on the cheek. “I’m putting Roxanne to bed for her nap.” He told her. She nodded, helping Fred to mix the ingredients for the cake. George went upstairs to Roxanne’s bedroom, and laid her down in her cot. She didn’t look too happy about that, but as soon as George started humming a song gently, she relaxed and soon fell asleep. The Weasley smiled happily and went to his room to get change for the party. He entered and noticed the small box on his bedside table. It wasn’t a particularly fancy box, but inside was a pale orange coloured feather, which was precious to George. He picked the feather from the box, smiling.

Yes, he still missed Fred. Yes, he was still upset. Yes, he still wished Fred hadn’t died. But he didn’t blame it on anybody anymore. He didn’t fell empty anymore. He wasn’t angry at the world and he didn’t want to die. He had a wife he loved and who loved him back. He had two wonderful children whom meant the world to him, and he had a great job that could sustain them and his whole family too. Saying George had ‘moved on’ from Fred would be incorrect. He still ‘spoke’ to him; he still remembered his memories with him. He had simply understood that Fred wanted him to live on a happy life, and not to mourn for him till the day he died. George will eventually go and join his older twin, but there’s no need to rush. George is living for Fred, being his brother as well as himself. 

Life is precious. And it should be lived.

George smiled happily and put the feather to his lips. “Heya, today’s Ron’s birthday.” He murmured. Even if Fred didn’t directly talk to him, George already knew what he would say.

“I know. Wish him a happy Birthday from me. And don’t forget to prank him.” The voice laughed, bringing a chuckle from George’s lips.

“I won’t.” he grinned.


End file.
